Unheralded
by serennog
Summary: A tale of loss, forgiveness, and love. Leon/OC. Begins shortly prior to S4, continues during 'The Darkest Hour' parts 1 and 2. (Re-published.)
1. I: Homecoming

**UNHERALDED**

_by serennog_

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Summary: A tale of loss, forgiveness, and love. Leon/OC. Begins shortly prior to S4, continues during 'The Darkest Hour' parts 1 and 2.

Disclaimer: Any '_Merlin_' characters or plotlines you recognise are the property of the BBC and Shine Television. Those you don't are mine.

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**Chapter I: Homecoming**

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Sir Leon sighed and shifted in the saddle, his breath briefly visible before being chased away by the biting wind. Not for the first time since setting out the previous morning he was struck by the urge to turn Haveron about and race back to Camelot. But even as he thought it his hand reached for the pouch hanging from his belt, gloved fingers tracing the edge of a parchment folded one-too-many times. A letter written in a hand that was not his mother's, but signed and sealed by her, begging his return to Lostwydhyel as soon as possible.

His father – Lord Adelard – was gravely ill.

Bitterness rose up in Leon's throat, threatening to choke him, and he pulled on Haveron's reins by way of response. The stallion tossed its head, irritated, but obediently halted.

Leon inhaled deeply in an attempt to compose himself and concentrated on a point in the landscape ahead of him. He could see the river Fowy, full-to-brimming with snowmelt. It cut a meandering path southwards to the nearby coast, glimmering in the harsh early-spring sunlight like mercury. His eyes followed the river until he found what he was looking for: a broad stone bridge. West of the structure stood the fortified manor house he knew too well.

Haveron snorted and pawed the ground impatiently, drawing Leon from his thoughts. He clapped the horse affectionately on the neck.

"I know, I know." Finding again the distant manor house and the scattering of cottages that surrounded it, Leon took a firmer grasp of the reins.

"For mother, if not for anyone else…"

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"Sir Leon. Welcome home."

Leon turned from the stable hand who was beginning to lead Haveron away, finding a familiar figure crossing the courtyard towards him.

"Galien." Leon smiled, grasping the steward's forearm in greeting. "It is good to see you."

The older man inclined his head in acknowledgment. His expression gave nothing away, but Leon knew Galien well enough to detect the like sentiment that leant a twinkle to his grey eyes.

Sobering, Leon cast a glance at the house in which he'd been born and raised. With the sun shining down on it, causing the limewash to gleam, he found it difficult to imagine his father lying infirm within.

"What news?" he finally asked.

Galien frowned, gesturing for Leon to walk with him. "I am afraid the physician, Lagot, has given up hope of your father's recovery. He prescribes various concoctions for no other purpose than to ease his pain."

Leon only nodded. He was yet unsure what his feelings were, but there was one person he thought of with concern. "And mother?"

The steward sighed imperceptibly. "She has not left his side, but-"

"Sir Leon?"

Both men stopped and looked up at the address.

Standing on the pentice and walkway that connected the solar block to the south tower was a young woman. Leon felt his breath catch as he took in the dark hair and equally dark eyes, certain for an instant that he knew who she was. The moment passed as he noticed how her tresses were not quite as dark as he'd initially thought, and that her face was youthful. She could not have been much older than eighteen.

"Lady Helisent." Galien gave a diminutive bow.

Leon, realising he was blinking somewhat owlishly, cleared his throat and offered the same greeting. "My apologies, Lady Helisent. I thought I was seeing your sister, Lady Hawis."

Helisent smiled minutely, descending the stairs to join them. "No apologies necessary. It is often said we look very much alike."

Leon made no further comment, remembering how very different the sisters had looked on the day of Hawis' wedding four years past. Helisent had been a reedy fourteen-year-old then.

"Your mother has not lacked companionship nor kindness," informed Galien cordially. "And you, my lady, have been _very_ kind."

A look of weariness washed over Helisent's features, making her seem suddenly older. "I only wish I could be of more help." There was a moment's pause before she met Leon's eyes and forced a smile.

"It is good to see you again, my lord."

He thanked her, making sure to convey all the gratefulness he felt.

"Lord Adelard lies in his bedchamber with your mother keeping vigil," Helisent explained as Leon's gaze strayed to the south tower. "Should I direct the servants to draw you a bath, my lord, while you sit with them?"

Leon abruptly levelled her with a curious look, which, judging by her next words, must have been interpreted as displeasure.

"Forgive me, my lord," she excused, colour rising in her cheeks. "It is only that I have been given leave by your mother to act as mistress on her behalf and-"

Leon raised a hand to stop her, managing a small, reassuring smile. "No apologies necessary, Lady Helisent. A bath would be welcome. And something to eat."

"Of course," she said and quickly excused herself.

Leon watched her disappear in through the far door of the hall. It took him a moment to notice Galien's eyes on him. The older man seemed briefly amused before his features hardened in what Leon recognised as the precursor to words of counsel.

"As I have said, Lady Helisent has been too kind."

Leon nodded thoughtfully. "And I am in her debt." Having said so, his eyes again found the south tower, jaw tightening in grim determination.

Galien laid a hand on his shoulder. "I will take my leave of you now." Quietly, he added: "You have become a fine man, Leon, and a great knight, praised by many. Remember this."

The steward departed, leaving Leon standing alone. When at last he approached the tower door, it was with the air of a man readying himself for battle.

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Leon was not unused to the smell of sickness, but there was something especially oppressive about the aromas that met him on entering his father's bedchamber. A nauseating combination of sweat, herbs, and decay, made worse by the stifling heat. The shutters, he noticed, were all closed with heavy drapes drawn over them, and a fire roared in the hearth to his left.

Looking to his right, Leon could make out his father's bed in the gloom, and while he couldn't see its occupant, he did not miss the slender figure perched on its edge.

"Mother."

Lady Mariel gave a start, turning her head towards him. In the next instant she had crossed the room and pulled him into an embrace that was almost suffocating in its desperation. Leon was alarmed by how thin and frail she felt in his arms.

"Oh, Leon." Mariel drew back, fondly holding his face between her hands.

Leon swallowed thickly as he took in the worrying sight of her. The dancing shadows caused by the fire brought the hollowness of Mariel's cheeks into prominence and darkened the rings about her eyes. Her hair had mostly escaped a hastily-made braid, curling madly to frame her face, lending her a distinctly wild look.

"Mother," he said again, this time chidingly. "You have not been resting."

She cast a glance at the bed. "Your father has needed me." When her eyes met his again Leon saw tears in them. "Will you come and sit with him, dearest? I think it will comfort him to know you are here."

Leon doubted his presence would do any such thing, but did not resist as Mariel led him to Adelard's bedside.

As with the smell of it, Leon had long become accustomed to the sight of illness and impending death, yet seeing his father in such a state gave him pause. The man was a shadow of his former self. Tucked closely around him, the blankets hinted at a slight frame that was a stark contrast to Adelard's previously solid build. Likewise, his pockmarked face, once so formidable, was skeletal and very pale. The skin looked waxen in the weak light.

"Adelard, my love." Mariel gently caressed his face, coaxing him from sleep. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and Leon saw they were glassy. More than likely from the concoctions Galien had mentioned.

"Mariel?" Adelard's voice was barely audible.

"Yes, husband." She reached behind her then, fingers curling in Leon's cloak to urge him closer. "Look who has arrived."

"Father," greeted Leon stiffly.

Adelard shut his eyes, looking suddenly pained. Seeing this, Mariel moved to smooth his forehead while uttering sounds of solace, but Adelard's discomfort only seemed to grow.

"You sent for him," he accused through gritted teeth. "Why?"

Mariel hushed him fretfully. "He is your _son_."

"My son is dead!" Adelard jerked with the ferocity of his exclamation then fell back onto the mattress, coughing and spluttering. As Mariel struggled to ease his convulsions with the contents of a goblet, Leon fought to subdue the hurt and anger provoked by his father's words.

"I have succeeded, father-" began Leon once Adelard's coughing had subsided. "-In every way that you claimed I would not. Do I not deserve even a little of your respect?"

But whatever had been in the goblet was swiftly taking effect. Adelard's head lolled to the side, his eyelids drooping.

"Alain," he murmured. "I will see you again soon." And then he was asleep.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch into eternity, broken only by the sound of Adelard's breathing along with the occasional crackle from the fire.

Scowling down at his father's recumbent form Leon suppressed the urge to storm out. Taking a calming breath he conjured Galien's earlier words of commendation, feeling, as he repeated them in his mind, a surge of gratitude for the man he had known since infancy.

Finally Mariel spoke.

"I had thought-" She did not finish, but began to weep.

Leon laid a soothing hand on his mother's back.

"I know."

There passed another spell of quiet before Leon gently grasped Mariel's shoulder. "I will fetch a servant to watch over him while you rest."

Mariel's hand abruptly latched onto his with a strength that nearly startled him.

"No," she said firmly. With her free hand, she reached to tenderly brush back Adelard's hair. "It is almost time. I can feel it. I will not leave him."

Leon opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. "Then I will return later." He bent, kissing his mother's temple before turning to take his leave.

"Leon."

He stopped at the door, looking back to find Mariel's eyes on him. Her expression was pleading.

"Forgiveness is to be earned, I know, but…" She hesitated, briefly shutting her eyes. "Your father loved Alain very much. Perhaps one day, you will understand." Not waiting for an answer, Mariel turned, taking up Adelard's hand in both of her own and held it to her cheek. Leon watched as her shoulders shook, searching within himself for the forgiveness of which she had spoken.

He could not find it – and doubted he ever would.

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A/N: 'Lostwydhyel' is the Cornish name for Lostwithiel, which was (incorrectly) translated as 'lion's tail' in the 17th century. This little bit of information flicked a switch in my mind – so despite the mistranslation, it became Sir Leon's childhood home. The manor house itself is based on Stokesay Castle, Shropshire, which I was fortunate enough to visit two years ago. It's a beautiful, tranquil place, so if you're ever in that county I highly recommend you stop there for a wander.

-serennog.


	2. II: Departure (Part 1)

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**Chapter II: Departure (Part 1)**

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"I have been thinking," said Leon that evening. Galien watched him from his chair on the opposite side of the solar's fireplace, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Does your process of 'thinking' include the interrogation of household staff?"

Leon looked at his old friend with no little amount of surprise. "Is that what they're calling it? An 'interrogation'?"

"Not precisely," admitted the steward. "I overheard two of the servants discussing your behaviour this afternoon. They are curious. And anxious."

Leon sighed, briefly swirling the burgundy contents of his goblet before taking a drink. "It was never my intention to alarm them."

"Of course not. But your questions have caused a bit of a stir." The confusion must have shown on Leon's face, as Galien continued. "You have made inquiries relating to Lady Helisent."

Leon nodded as though that particular line of questioning was utterly logical, and had nothing to do with sating his curiosity. "She is well-liked and efficient."

Galien made a sound of affirmation, all sign of his earlier amusement gone. "She has managed the household well during your mother's withdrawal."

At the mention of Mariel, Leon ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I fear for mother." He spared Galien a glance. The other man looked back, expression carefully neutral. "I plan on removing her to our townhouse in Camelot, after…" He paused and took a fortifying swallow of his wine. "That way I may keep a closer eye on her."

"I think that is wise," agreed Galien softly. "And what part does Lady Helisent play in your plans?"

Leon smiled. "Nothing escapes you does it, my friend?"

Galien arched his brows as though to say "of course not". Leon huffed a laugh but quickly grew serious, turning his gaze on the fire blazing in the hearth. "I must return to my duties almost immediately, and I should feel better knowing that mother had a companion."

"Have you spoken to Lady Helisent of this?"

"Not yet." Leon looked at the steward, suddenly uncertain. "Do you think she will agree?"

"She is very fond of your mother," said Galien. "And the feeling is mutual. But I'm afraid it is not her decision to make."

Leon nodded decisively. "I will speak with her father."

Just then the door was unceremoniously flung open and in stumbled a maidservant, breathless. "My lords! Lord Adelard, he is-" She heaved a great big sob and gestured wildly for the men to follow her.

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It was as though a great weight had been lifted from Adelard's bedchamber, much like the clearing of air following a thunderstorm. Leon crossed immediately to the foot of his father's bed where Mariel and Helisent stood, the older woman weeping into the younger's shoulder.

"Mother…"

She looked up and reached for him with such a doleful look that his heart ached. He readily took her into his arms.

"Leon, he-" Her words subsided into sobs and he held her tighter, running a comforting hand over her hair.

"I know. He suffers no more."

Leon glanced in Helisent's direction to find her watching them, cheeks streaked with tears. She lifted a surreptitious hand to wipe them away before stepping forward. When she spoke, her voice was admirably even.

"My lord, I will take her to her chambers. There is nothing more to be done until the morning."

Leon nodded, gently relinquishing Mariel over to Helisent's care, and watched them leave with a sense of relief. He had no doubt his mother would be well cared for.

"Leon."

He turned to find Galien beckoning him to his father's bedside.

"I have sent Warin and John to fetch a pallet," said the steward quietly. "Once your father has been moved to the cellar, I will help you with letters."

Leon said nothing for a long moment but grimly examined Adelard's face. He felt a stab of resentment on seeing how peaceful his father looked. As though he hadn't a care.

Finally, Leon nodded. "Thank you."

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Some hours later found Leon at the door to his mother's chambers. The flicker of candlelight from under the door told him at least one of its occupants was awake, yet when he knocked, he did so quietly. A wide-eyed maidservant greeted him almost immediately.

"My mother," whispered Leon. "How does she fare?"

She did not respond but stepped aside, making room for Helisent to join him on the threshold. The girl looked haggard. "I gave her a sleeping draught, my lord. It will not ease her heartache, but she shan't be troubled by bad dreams."

Leon thanked her, feeling acutely the inadequacy of his words. It was then that he remembered his earlier conversation with Galien.

"Lady Helisent," he began. "You have done much for my mother, and I cannot rightly express my gratitude. But I would ask one more favour of you."

She gestured for him to continue.

"Will you come to Camelot? As mother's companion? I worry for her, and it would comfort me to know she had your company."

Helisent cast a glance over her shoulder, presumably at Mariel's sleeping form. The smile that graced her lips was sad.

"I have always thought of lady Mariel as a second mother." She turned back to Leon, ducking her head in ascent. "I would gladly accompany her, and I am certain my father can be easily persuaded to give me leave." Her expression was impish, giving Leon a glimpse of the girl he remembered from Hawis' wedding.

"Still, I shall discuss it with him personally."

When Helisent raised a hand to stifle a yawn, Leon apologised for keeping her.

"It is late and you should rest. There is much to be done in the coming days."

She didn't protest like he thought she might have. A sure sign of her fatigue. "Good night, my lord."

"Sleep well, my lady."

Leon stood contemplating the door for a long moment after she had shut it, wondering how he could ever repay her for her kindness.

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A/N: Sorry for the delay, but here we have it – chapter two at long last. I'd just like to take a moment to thank those who have added the story to their follows and faves, and to _Nicely Nicely's little sister_ for an encouraging review.

-serennog.


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